Game Play
by UnknownPens
Summary: If Bakura had been more than a tool in a box set he might have felt sadness, emptiness. However, he assured himself, it was impossible for such emotions to strike the mechanics of his body, in particular the one pulsing blood through his veins.


Everything had always been a game to the once King of Thieves. Chance, skill, practice, patience, and a lack of power to influence the victor. The last thread to keep his sanity intact were the rules and stages of this systematic game. His eyes seemed to glow a slightly crimson brown; reflecting his demonic persona as he walked through the city.

He was a character of evil and wickedness; everything that needed to stand in the way of a heroes victory. A key game piece. That meant that Life was meant to revolve around chance. A chance to have his revenge, to express the anger bottled up inside for thousands of years. The skill his mind had incorporated into his plans and the skill hidden within the moves he made carefully.

Bakura had learned patience was essential but not a skill one could ever get use to. He would often grit his teeth as the minutes slugged by, as the hours turned to days; the days spewed into months and eventually expanded into years. He felt his insides stretch. How long had he been playing games? Was their ever a time where he wasn't a piece in a large intricate puzzle? A two dimensional devil who's only goal was to keep playing. He had no control, he was all chaos. A mess of emotions that left his face numb with the reflection similar to ice.

Maybe it was the night air adding to his lack of sensitivity to any sensations. Dark and damp he glanced up and the haunting sky. A grey pool of clouds trapped him with the ability to drag his mind and body to a distant memory of a different time he could no longer call his past. His past was not part of the game, _not now._

If he had been more than a tool in a box set he might have felt sadness, emptiness. However, he assured himself, it was impossible for such emotions to strike the mechanics of his body, in particular the one pulsing blood through his veins.

The feeling missing in his life had to be revenge. The sweet sensation of winning a game he had devoted his entire life to playing. A game of darkness masked in the form of shadows surrounding his ghastly pail figure. A thin boy had become his landlord, a weak, ill formed game piece.

He felt no beauty or craftsmanship in this form. Where were his tan, strong muscles, and striking features that could lead him to victory. Gone was his strength and authority through male supremacy. Of course he did notice that within this new effeminate form of being, he could get away with a certain charm he had not experienced before.

His landlord had fans, swarms of game pieces begging to be exploited and sacrificed for the cause of triumph. Women and men were within his reach, all he had to do was tilt his head a certain angle, cock his hip and purse his lips. They practically would run to him. Pride had made it impossible for him to submit to this new advantage. The ability did not seem worthy enough to submit himself to.

A thief of shadows never relied on appearance; what was hidden behind the skin held a deeper level of importance. He licked his lips. A sickly sweet taste lingered as he realized he had forgotten to feed the vessel for today.

That explained the dull pain spreading like a parasite through his lower abdomen.

He placed his fingers through a gap inside the gold smooth item that should have been destroyed months ago. How DID he escape? How did the ring find it's way back to this body and place?

All he remembers about the last stage of the game is loosing and the pain that came with it. His body had literally deteriorated into hot, searing shadows. That was the only way he could describe it burning, blinding, unbearable disintegration. Worse it was slow and humiliating. Had the pharaoh still been around he questioned whether or not he had the face to confront him.

That was the first point of the game, confronting and defeating the detestable Pharaoh. Now, after being forced to once again come to terms with his current beyond mortality existence, Bakura knew that was no longer a possible goal.

The Pharaoh was dead, and not by his own hands; he could never again have a chance to lash out on the soul entity of his revenge.

So that just left the rest of the planet. The entire world had to pay, it all had to be subjected to his whims. He still had his shadow magic for all he knew he was the last of the souls left within this world with the ability to condemn mankind into the depths of hell. He just needed to get stronger, to heal the burns within his spirit suffered during his greatest downfall.

Another gust of cold wind abruptly decided to drag him out of his fantasies.

Following his practices from previous nights the thief returned to the home of a weak willed and timid host. It was easy enough to adapt to his surroundings, and Ryo had grown so depressed on his return he gave up all resistance and hope for control. For now.

Bakura could relate in that sense, he no longer felt any control with current situations. Rage filled his body at the connection with the horridly weak willed child he despised relying on for a body. He damned him to hell with the rest of the world for companions. At least then he didn't have to feel the boys annoying loneliness.

As a man back in Egypt he may have sympathized with the loss of family and connection the two seemed prone to; but now as a game piece relationships simply lead to complications. Ryo would learn that; or at least he would have if Bakura had not returned. Now he could just sit in his soul room and melt into a puddle of sadness.

Bakura slammed his head into the pillow of his hosts bed and fell asleep instantly.

The next morning felt a small amount brighter than the previous day. He awoke around 12 so the sky had peaked it's lightest shade for the time being. He pulled his white locks into a messy pony tail and rummaged through the tasteless garments typical of teenagers during this age. How he missed Egyptian silk and gold. Especially gold.

His thoughts flashed back to the last family whom shared his taste for the valuable and addictive jewelry from the past. The Ishtars; no doubt the family back in Egypt probably would figure out some witch magic to send him underground for good if they learned he was back too soon. Especially that Ishizu, she seemed to constantly put herself above all else even though she was a mere tomb keeper and woman. His thoughts did not want to bring up the other Ishtar whom held a partnership more problematic than beneficial.

That can of worms needed to remained closed.

Bakura grabbed a toothbrush and went through the motions of preparing for the day.

After showering he helped himself to the wallet of Ryo's neighbor and searched for a nice (expensive) place to eat. Treating himself he stopped by a place far across town and chose a booth in the back relatively hidden from other customers. Of course he was lucky enough to be seated besides a man arguing with someone over trivial matters.

_"Where the hell is that waiter. You are worthless! How could you do this to your father hmm? The food is taking too long. Rummaging in a tournament set up by those against me. I will die a pitiful man because of you!"_

_"Father, people are starring, please calm down."_

_"THEY would be anyway because of this face! This pain! have you forgotten! OTOGI!"_

Bakura ears shot up up the name. It sounded slightly familiar. Ah, to think his luck decided to run out today and set him ending up around one of the pharaohs many admirers. Doubt coursed though him at being notice though, since that man seems to be taking up all the attention in the room.

How could a fat clownish man father that boy? See... family led to ugliness, how could the thief miss or crave something as disfigured as that type of relationship. He had a whole table to himself free of degrading daggers spewed from a man who honestly had no right to power over anyone.

The boys personality was completely different, usually around the friendship squad he was arrogant and self assured. But here he was nothing more than a quite obedient son of a clown. It would be more suspicious if Bakura continued his act of ignoring them. Even if his extremely rare steak had finally come no doubt they would eventually look over his way. Perhaps entertainment from feigning as host would benefit him to join them?

Otogi's eyes dilated as soon as white hair presented itself within his vision. Carefully plastering a kind smile on his face Bakura walked over.

"Otogi, hey!" a wave characteristically like his host made Bakura almost want to give up his act. The raven haired boy smiled back nervously and his fathers eyes wandered over to Bakura. Suddenly his body felt cold and frigid. This man held the same green eyes as his son yet they made him feel immediately uncomfortable; almost exposed.

What the hell did this child suffer through with this creature of ugliness? Bakura didn't want to think about it.

"Ryo, no ones seen you around for a while!" His eyes looked more tired than Bakura remembered, then again he wasn't one to pay attention to people like Otogi. Or any of the Pharaohs slaves for that matter.

"Yugi's been looking for you" Otogi began playing with his black locks, "Seems that Ishizu had a vision about you they need to tell you."

Perhaps he shouldn't have disconnected his landlords phone. "Oh sorry, I went on a trip with my dad, just got back a few days ago." Bakura lied expertly.

He lied so well sometimes he had trouble remembering what was truth and what was fiction.

He couldn't remember how to get to the game shop however, so his charm would need to be used to get the news.

"Otogi it's been so long, If your father wouldn't mind could you maybe accompany me afterwards?" He was careful to leave out the part about them heading over to Yugi's.

The boy looked as winded as an angel just handed back his torn off wings. Without hesitation he nodded, "Of course!" He turned to the Clown. "Father?"

The man gazed back over, "Of course son, This type of friend I approve of." Bakura suddenly lost his appetite.

Otogi apparently wasn't in the mood to eat as well and the two departed.

"Sorry." He mumbled, "My father isn't in the best mood today." Bakura was about to mutter the other time he had met the man but remembered to keep up his role as Ryo, who had never interacted in the game of dice played by the Pharaoh and the Teen.

"What about you Otogi? you seem a bit tired" Green eyes widened, his charism suddenly taking flight. "Well you know, business and women leave less time for anything else. I could however pencil you in if you're interested"

He didn't have to try quite so hard to fake that smile, at least the boy had humor along with arrogance.

Arriving at the Game shop the small boy with tri colored hair jumped towards the spirit. "Bakura where have you been? I tried calling you the other day."

He smiled yet again, "sorry yugi my dad took me along on a trip, Ryuji said you had something to tell me from Ishizu?"

The youths face suddenly grew serious. "She actually just sent her brother over to find you, Rishid should land tonight."

"Could you tell him to stop by my place? I have quite a bit of unpacking to do."

He nodded, "You sure you can't stay a bit?"

Bakura tried his best apologetic face, "Later this week for sure. I'm sure you and otogi could find something to do in the meantime."

The two quickly went into a game centered discussion as bakura left the shop. He pictured the tall, dark, and bald man knocking on his door in the middle of the night.."...how lovely." His scowl grew.

He ended up walking around the city for a few hours before returning to his landlords flat. At first he had decided to stay out till dark but the rain persuaded him otherwise. By the time the thief arrived home he had become way past dripping wet. He was now drowning in frigid watery muck.

Needless to say, showering was a top priority. As the steam from the searing hot droplets filled the bathroom it became more tempting to poke around what message was so important the family delivery boy had to be sent. What did poor little innocent Ryou need to know? His anxiety rose as he realized maybe she foresaw his return. No without the items it would be impossible for Ishizu to be useful in any way.

He thought back to large, glossy, and malice filled purple eyes. Perhaps Marik had cracked again and was targeting those who had battled his insane split personality. A small smile tempted Bakuras face for a second... He found that pondering to be more than a little amusing.

After all, who didn't enjoy a dark game of death and shadows?

He was shaken out of his thoughts as he as he heard a loud banging echoing through the modest flat. Throwing on a towel loosely he almost kept himself out of character. It would be unlike ryou to answer the door in such a fashion. No doubt it would be Rishid trying to get out of the rain.

He threw on a robe, pinched his cheeks for an out of breath flush, and tied his hair up. Very much like landlord would have appeared.

Feeling proud of himself he swung open the door, "I'm terribly sorr-" He stopped mid sentence. Standing in front of him was not Rishid. In fact one could argue, it was the complete opposite. The term 'speak of the devil' came to mind as Bakura did not want to be looking at an equally flush faced and drenched surprise visitor.

At least his face was as sour as he remembered. He caught himself about to talk in his normal voice and bit his tongue.

"Yo." Marik Ishtar smirked closing his umbrella. "Yugi said to come buy, called the phone again but still isn't connected, Rishid got a little sick so Ishizu sent me." He began taking off his shoes, "I've been knocking for like half an hour."

Bakura really should have kept landlords phone hooked. "Sorry." He forced out, "Please come in Ishtar."

Marik did another one of his half assed smiles, "Just Marik, I know we haven't properly met, besides that time during kaibas tournament..." His deadlike eyes glanced away.

"Oh you mean when you pretended to help me." Bakura matched his smile. The eery purple eyes looked over back at him. He rose an eyebrow, "Well it seems some spirits rubbed off on you."

Bakura raised an eyebrow back, "what do you mean Marik?"

"well," He flipped his damp pale yellow hair back. It was more a mess than usual. No doubt he rode some atrocious motorcycle as soon as the plane landed. "Something about you is colder, your aura. It's similar to your past tenant."

How could this idiot tell without a few moments? NO one had ever seen through bakura and now within minutes this boy who lived under ground his whole life could tell from some garbage such as 'aura.'

He needed to focus on his acting, no way would he mess up any move. "I'm sorry, that was rude." He began, "I've just been tired, my father took me with him on a trip and well... lets just say my sanity was challenged."

"Haha, thats it, a little crazy like the thief! Don't worry Ryo you have a _LOOONGGGG_ way till you reach that level of insanity."

Bakura could not remember a moment where the desire to punch a man in the face had been greater. Instead yet again he bit his tongue... only this time until it _bled_.


End file.
